


Motivation

by oftennot



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Like seriously Birdie is just eating Galen up in this, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Female Gaze, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29706069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oftennot/pseuds/oftennot
Summary: Who can resist a hot, sweaty monk working out? Certainly not Birdie.
Relationships: Birdie Morlas/Galen Zankyri
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Motivation

**Author's Note:**

> 100% inspired by the song Motivation by Normani.

Birdie is pretending to read. To call it that is a stretch, however. She holds an open book in her hands, but that is extent of her "reading" considering her eyes have not scanned the lines of the page in several minutes. The book is positioned below her face, the heated expression donning it on full display. Birdie is staring. Ogling, really. There is not an ounce of shame in her gaze. No, she lets her eyes trace the lines of glistening muscle like an artist gliding the tip of their brush across a canvas.

Galen is shirtless. He took off his coat when they first entered the training area half an hour ago. Birdie sent a suggestive glance towards his bared shoulders, to which he raised an eyebrow and began stretching. He set about his daily training routine, and Birdie settled herself on some nearby crates, opening her book, hoping to read, like, one whole page. She made it about three-quarters of the way (she's a slow reader, alright) before she heard a lapse in his grunts and heavy breathing and looked up to the juicy image of Galen reaching behind his neck to pull his shirt off. Her eyes haven't left him since.

He's quite aware of her eyes on him, she knows. Rather than practicing his martial art forms like usual, Galen elected to do calisthenic exercises. He started with crunches. Naturally, regular crunches are too easy for someone of his talent. In order for a monk to work up a sweat there needed to be an added challenge, which for him was hanging by his knees from the pole situated between two wooden posts. The grooves of his abdomen flexed as he lifted his torso up to knees with astonishing ease and speed. After a number of repetitions that had even Birdie's muscles aching, the smug little prat switched it up to twist his body as he lifted it, touching his elbow to the opposite knee before lowering himself.

He's intentionally putting on a show, so Birdie thinks she's well within her rights to drink up every second of it.

He switched to pull ups next. He reached up to grab the pole in both hands, and in one fluid movement Galen straightened out his legs, extending them past his head and slowly lowered them down at an angle until his toes slipped under the metal bar. It was a feat that required both full body strength and dexterity, and nearly all the muscles on his form strained with the effort. Yet he made it look like water flowing in a stream, natural and smooth.

Birdie shifted, a slowly building heat between her legs causing her to rub them together. As she took in a breath, her tongue darted out to wet her lips. He had his back to Birdie, which was fine by her. She considered it a lesson on humanoid anatomy, cataloguing the different muscle groups that appeared as he raised and lowered himself over and over. When this became too easy he switched it up again, pointing his legs out at a 90 degree angle while continuing to lift his chin over the bar.

Galen was being cocky.

Eventually he drops down from bar and wanders over to where he placed his water skin and sweat rag. Taking a breather, it seems. Birdie's eyes follow him the whole way, never straying. He takes generous gulps of water, and gods, is that a few drips trailing down his neck? She watches one drop slither down the crook of his neck, over his collarbone, all the way to his chest, where it gets lost with the fine sheen of sweat that has built up. And Birdie thought _she_ was a tease.

"Have a good workout?"

He finishes swallowing, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, then turns to her as he dabs the rag across his hairline. He raises his eyebrows questioningly, breathing only slightly labored despite the exercises he's done. The _audacity._ She's supposed to be the performer here. Not that she's complaining. Far from it. She's impressed. Galen engaged in his own fair amount of subterfuge before meeting her, but Birdie likes to think she'd rubbed off on him.

She's like to rub one out on his—

"Not finished yet," he says, tossing the rag onto the floor. "You know I can last longer than that."

"Is that so?" A smirk grows on her face.

By way of answering he drops to the floor, on his hands and feet, and begins a rapid series of push-ups. He keeps his eyes locked with hers. Birdie abandons all pretenses of reading, the book lying forgotten to the side. In response, Galen raises one arm to rest on his back, and starts a one armed variant of the exercise. He can't fight back the subtle twitch of his lips.

Well, two can play at that game.

Birdie leans back on the crates and spreads her legs. Her hands ghost up her thighs, tracing the patterns on her trousers, fingers never quite reaching that place she so dearly wants touched. Galen's eyes dart from her face to her hands and his push-ups slow, ever so slightly.

"Am I distracting you?" she asks.

"Not at all," he replies, his voice sounding labored. It may be from exertion, but she likes to think otherwise.

"Should I continue?" One hand continues its achingly slow journey up her leg, while the other flutters over her bare stomach and up to caress her clothed breast.

Now Galen falters, his other hand coming back down to the ground to stabilize himself. He halts his push-ups, holding himself in a plank position as he watches Birdie.

She tuts at him. "You can't slack off in your training," she chastises, and the hand on her leg finally trails up to the crotch of her pants. She rubs lazy circles over herself and Galen's eyes zero in on the motion.

He licks his lips. "What do you want me to do?"

The hand on her breast moves up to her mouth and she sucks on a finger. "Me."

He stands and marches right up to her splayed on the crate. Birdie sits up to meet him, hands immediately going to his trousers and pulling them down. His dick springs free, already half hard, and she grabs it by the shaft and closes her mouth around his tip. Galen lets out a groan and one hand threads itself in her hair, loosening her buns. He guides her head forward as she takes in more of his length, her hand pumping up to meet her lips. The skin of his dick is smooth and firm, and she enjoys swirling her tongue around its shaft and suckling on the tip, the tightening of his hand in her hair and the soft hiss that emanates from him pleasing her. She's getting into a rhythm, taking more and more of him into her mouth each time she bobs forward, and is content to continue until he's fall apart in her mouth, but Galen gently stops her and pulls away, his dick leaving her lips with a satisfying _pop_.

Birdie smiles up at him, fluttering her lashes. "But I was having so much fun," she whines. He _tsks_ in response and drops to his knees in front of her, pushing her legs open wider.

"Can't let you have all the fun," he says, running his hands up her thighs until his fingers hook themselves on the edge of her pants. She helps him pull them off her hips—gods, sometimes she almost hates her costumes for all the zippers and buttons that are in the way—but it's quick work to get them on the floor next to his. Galen's back between her legs in the next second, fingers massaging her calves as he guides them over his shoulders. His little huffs of breath on her sends shivers down her spine, and she hooks her heels together on his back, drawing him in closer. He laughs, his lips close enough to feel the slightest vibrations, and Birdie groans in frustration.

"Is there a problem?" He teases. Birdie opens her eyes and looks down at him, only to see his piercing blue eyes sparkling with mirth and laughter.

"Yes," she answers, "You're moving your mouth but it's not on my— _ohhh,"_ the rest of her words are lost in a moan as his mouth descends upon her, his tongue taking a long, languid stroke up her slit.

Birdie's head falls back down on the crates and she closes her eyes, content to loose herself in the sensations he's bringing her. His tongue moves with the same dexterity as the rest of his body, swirling around her clit to bring it into his mouth. When he starts sucking her back arches off the crates and she sighs, her toes curling. He slips a finger into her, curling up to hit the spot he found all those months ago and never forgot. He works her like she's one of the forms he runs through each day—with deliberate, precise, _practiced_ movements. Birdie feels herself writhe like the muscles under his skin, tensing with the ache of pleasure.

She is the one who pushes him away with this time, though she nearly draws him back in as he teasingly pulls on her clit with his lips while sitting back. The moan that rips out of her is entirely involuntary but well deserved.

"But I was having fun." He's smirking again, clearly pleased with himself, so she sits up and kisses him, licking away the traces of herself from his lips. His hair sways in her hands and she bites at his lips just to see how fast it can go. Galen breaks from their kiss and looks at her.

Birdie rubs her thumb across the line of his jaw. "I know a way we can both fully enjoy ourselves."

"I wonder what that could be." His hand snakes up her torso, finding her breast and squeezing it over her top. His hands are warm and his palms are rough, a delightful contrast to how smooth he is in other places. Galen continues to let his hands roam over her body, finding all the dips and curves and lingering on the spots that have her sighing into his mouth. Birdie occupies herself by kissing her way up his chest and neck, stopping when she gets to his ear. She nips at the pointed tip and breathes out, "Show me just how hard you can work yourself."

Galen growls and next Birdie knows she's being pushed down onto the crates once more as he stands over her. He grabs the underside of her knees and _pulls_ her pelvis up towards him. It takes only a moment for him to position himself, then he's sliding into her. The sensation of being connected and full of each other outshines their teasing mood. They bask in that special bliss it brings each time, but soon enough the urge to move takes over. Galen's hands easily encompass her waist, his fingers digging into the dip of her back. Birdie cants her hips up, bracing herself on her forearms. It doesn't seem like Galen even needs the help as he drives his hips forward, sheathing himself fully inside her. The force of his thrust rocks Birdie back, the crate scraping against the floor, and her arms slip out from under her. She laughs.

If he's intending to fuck her until the crate breaks beneath them then she's _certainly_ not going to fight that.

Birdie grabs at the edges of the crate for some semblance of purchase to hold herself steady as Galen hips slam into her again and again and again. It's almost painful, and his grip on her hips is bound to leave bruises after, but the sting amplifies the sweet, intoxicating feel of him sliding in and out of her. He shifts her angle on him just so, and then the head of his dick hitting that same spot his finger worked earlier. Birdie bites her lips to stop herself from moaning loud enough to alert the rest of the base.

"Gods, Galen," her voice trembles. She rocks her hips in time with his to draw him in deeper, deeper. Surely at some point he'll take all of her, body and soul.

Their combined movements have Galen groaning too and his legs are starting to shake. He pushes her further back on the crate and climbs forward. The positioning has her knees draped over his shoulders in a much more fun imitation of his hanging crunches from earlier. Birdie thanks the stars that she did _her_ stretches this morning because she's ready to bend in whatever way he'll have her.

His hands find purchase on either side of her head and he pauses. They stare into each other's eyes for a moment, chests heaving and the air between them thick and heavy. He looks good like this, his cheeks flushed purple and his hair tangling itself, whipping around in all different directions. Her hand reaches out to his and wraps around his wrist. Birdie smiles and keeps her thumb on the point of his pulse, the _thump thump thump_ of his heartbeat comforting.

Galen dips forward to place a quick kiss on her forehead, and then a slow roll of his hips follows after. Birdie runs her other hand up his arm, across his shoulders, down his chest. She marvels at his smooth, sweat-slicked skin and the hardened muscle underneath. How she can feel him flexing with every thrust and the steady, unending rhythm he fucks her with.

And like his exercises before, Galen maintains a fast, consistent pace, even as his breathing quickens and his head tips forward to rest against hers. The crate creaks beneath them. "You feel so good," Birdie praises him, turning her head to press her lips against his ear. She licks the shell of it and continues, "I love the way you fuck me."

He's practically whimpering into her shoulder now and somehow manages to pick up his pace. A cloud of pleasure starts to descend over Birdie. "Yes, _yes,_ just like that, you're fucking me so good," she gasps, feeling herself get pushed closer and closer to the edge. "I'm close, Galen, you're gonna make me cum."

"Fuck," he bites at her shoulder. She shivers in pleasure, digging her fingers into his shoulders, and this time she doesn't try to hold back her moans as the feeling lifts her higher and higher and—when she cums she can't help but wonder if Galen used his levitation on her because she feels weightless, almost removed from her body as she falls apart beneath him.

It doesn't take long for Galen to follow after her, and his rapid thrusts as he rides out his own orgasm make Birdie's legs shake with the aftershocks of her fading one. His hips finally slow until he thrusts one last time, then he collapses on top of her. Birdie huffs out a wheezing laugh from the force of his weight on her, but she wraps her arms around him, turning to kiss the crook of his neck.

"Does that count as a full day's workout?" Birdie asks after a few minutes of quiet, lazy silence where they did nothing but hold each other.

Galen snorts. "I'll say."

"Hmm," she taps her fingers up and down his spine like it's the strings of her violin. "You may need to work on your form some more."

"Really?" His voice is heavy with sarcasm. "Cause it sure sounded like my _form_ was doing pretty damn well."

"There's always room for improvement."

"Birdie, give a man a break. My pride is at stake."

"I"m just saying that practice makes perfect."

That has Galen lifting up his head just to give her a bemused look. "You think you can handle a second round?"

Birdie raises her chin in challenge. "Are you trying to progress your training or not?"

He opens his mouth to issue some retort, when the crate groans and sways beneath. They lock eyes, a dawning realization of horror sweeping over them both.

"You don't think—"

"Shit—"

The crate gives out and they fall to the floor.

There's more hisses and groans, but this time it's very clearly from pain.

"That hurt like a bitch."

"...You know, we could do it right here."

_"Birdie."_

"No? Okay, next time."


End file.
